Page 14 of An Icy Christmas Engagement
“Indeed so,” she went on, her voice barely audible over the raucous laughter of her father, who was already engaged in conversation with someone on the other side of the table. “I must say that you are far more composed than the rumours suggest.”
“Thank you.”
“I do not mean to create the impression that I engage in idle gossip, however, my lord,” she went on. “But one cannot help but listen when a person one is interested in becomes the topic of interest.”
“You do not know me, Miss Alice,” Cedric pushed through gritted teeth. “You cannot show interest in someone you do not know.”
“And I wish to change that,” she countered with ease. “You do seem like an interesting character. Not many would be so apathetic about joining my father’s dinner party late.”
Cedric couldn’t help looking at her at that. She ate with perfect poise and posture and when she looked at him in return, she peeked through lowered lashes.
“Is your father so formidable that I should never consider being late?” he couldn’t help but ask.
“That is what he believes. So others believe so as well.”
“I am not like others,” Cedric grunted, returning his attention to his meal.
“I can tell, my lord. What are your interests?” He didn’t respond so she added, “Do you fancy horseriding, or perhaps fencing? I know many noblemen partake in such activities. I for one have grown quite fond of my needlework and I am very adept on the back of a horse. What about you, my lord?”
“I enjoy eating my meals in silence.” Or whatever silence he could gain from such a hearty dinner party.
“Are you two enjoying yourselves?” Mr. Sinclair leaned towards Cedric suddenly to ask, his eyes sparkling with intrigue. “Should I trust that all proceeds most agreeably?”
Clearly Cedrics’s curt response wasn’t enough to deter Miss Alice because she eagerly said, “I am already enjoying Lord Colenhurst’s company, Father. I’m happy you invited him.”
Mr. Sinclair hardly paid his daughter any mind, eyes trained directly on Cedric. “And you, my lord? How do you finding your repast?”
“It is quite…” He struggled to find a word of praise. “Decent,” he ended at last.
“Decent?” Mr. Sinclair pulled away, mouth twisting to the side. “I daresay your palate is accustomed to more exquisite food?”
Sensing he might have wounded the other man’s ego, Cedric quickly thought of a way to fix it. “On the contrary, sir, this meal is quite like what I would have in my own home. Are we sharing cooks, by chance?”
The growing frown on Mr. Sinclair’s face dissolved immediately as laughter bursted forth from his lips. “Oh, if there was a person alive capable of cooking for two major people in London then I would love to meet them,” he guffawed. “The fact that you enjoy it pleases me greatly. And I see that Alice and you have gotten acquainted.”
Cedric nodded stiffly.
“Has she told you of her skill on the pianoforte?” Mr. Sinclair asked. “She’s been afforded the best education England has to offer and has spent a number of years at a seminary in Bath. Maybe she could play for you later this evening.”
“I am sure I shall enjoy that,” was all Cedric could think to say. Mentally, he cursed Harrison and his aunt for convincing him to come here in the first place.
“I am an adept singer as well, my lord,” Miss Alice chimed in, wearing that smile that didn’t touch her eyes. When their eyes met, however, he sensed something else behind her eyes, something that disappeared a moment later.
“You are quite talented then,” he said to her, focusing on eating.
“Yes, Father has ensured that I was given the chance to explore my natural capabilities. Which I am sure you will come to appreciate as we explore a friendship in the future.”
Cedric glanced up to make sure Mr. Sinclair was no longer paying them any mind, clearly having grown bored of the conversation, before he said, “I am in no need of friendship.”
“Perhaps a wife then.”
He choked. A small hand reached out and slid his glass of wine closer to him. “Please drink, my lord. I do find the beef a little dry as well.”
Cedric frowned at her as he accepted the glass. But she kept eating as if she hadn’t said anything odd.
So he chose to ignore it. That felt far better than committing himself to a conversation about marriage with a woman he’d only just met.
Thankfully, she didn’t try to bring it back up and continued the conversation talking about her love for poetry as if she hadn’t said anything at all. Cedric found himself grateful for it, though he would have much rathered if they could stop talking altogether. Mr. Sinclair interjected now and again, clearly just checking in to make sure they were engaged in conversation before leaving them be. Cedric couldn’t help but think that he was being pushed into a courtship with no say in it.
